Going undercover as a married couple comes a little too easily for you and Sam, like slipping into something that already fits—shared glances over diner coffee, Sam’s hand warm and steady at the small of your back when the sheriff isn’t looking, the way he says “my wife” softly, almost reverently, like the word means more than the ruse.

The hunt is tense, you and Sam searching for a monster that preys on couples. When it’s over and the motel room is quiet again, the fake rings set aside on the nightstand, the air feels heavier, gentler.

He lifts his hand, stops just short of touching you. “I care about you,” he says simply. “I have for a long time. I just—needed to know I wasn’t the only one feeling this way.”